


Insomnium Et Memoriae

by luxusnoname



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, and i mean lots of banter bc braig is just. like that., xeha pretends its annoying but he loves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:03:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23412052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxusnoname/pseuds/luxusnoname
Summary: Xehanort is plagued by dreams... Or are they his lost memories? Either way, Braig is there to help him through it.
Relationships: Braig/Xehanort (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12
Collections: Radiant Garden Family Exchange





	Insomnium Et Memoriae

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cakeacake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeacake/gifts).



_Worlds away from Radiant Garden, a decisive battle took place. The setting was unfamiliar, yet unmistakable: a vast desert - no, a graveyard, filled with the weapons of heroes from a forgotten age. Steel blades clashed and rang out under a ruptured sky as light and darkness warred with one another on that fated land._

_He looked over the edge of the sheer cliff, where an armored warrior dodged rapid-fire blasts. Their opponent was a blur of red and blue, dashing on the ground one second and hanging midair the next. And nearby, another young warrior lay frozen on the ground. He shook his head. Had he done that to the boy? Or was he an ally? Both possibilities felt… Right._

_But then his own foe was upon him, and there was no more time to consider it. His heels dug into the dirt as he raised his weapon to block a weighty blow. They were near evenly matched and he was growing weary. But he must continue to fight, for his friends... No, to achieve balance. What did he fight for again?_

_He parried another attack, but the next came quicker than expected and he fell to his knees. His opponent stood before him, no doubt ready to strike a final blow. Then a great light surged in the background - proof of another battle won. It filled him with the strength to carry on. To fulfill his destiny. He gripped the hilt of his weapon, rising to meet his foe once more…_

_And then turned the blade on himself and plunged it into his chest._

Xehanort awoke with a gasp, his heart beating so frantically that he was afraid it might burst. He laid a hand on his chest as the effects of the dream began to ebb away, as well as his memory of it. There had been a battle, that much he was certain of... But where? Between who, and for what purpose? It had been so clear to him only moments ago.

A soft groan and the sound of rustling covers drew his gaze to the other side of his bed where Braig stirred. Unfortunately for his bedmate, Xehanort's little startle didn't go unnoticed.

"Hnnh... Xeha?" His healthy eye cracked open, half lidded and heavy with sleep. Its golden iris was dim in the darkness of the room. "You okay?"

"I'm... fine," he finally breathed out, thumb brushing over the guard’s cheek before moving to tuck a loose strand of dark hair behind his ear. "It was nothing. You needn't concern yourself."

Braig leaned into the touch with a quiet hum, and then collapsed face first back into his pillow; whatever reply he'd given was muffled beyond comprehension as sleep claimed him once more. Something warm and full blossomed in Xehanort’s chest at the sight. He'd known this man for less than a year, but his affection grew quickly in that time. And it was moments like this that made him feel as though waking up in Radiant Garden with severe amnesia wasn't the worst thing that could've happened to him.

After a few moments of blissful reminiscence, Xehanort rolled onto his side and attempted to follow Braig's example. But sleep didn't come as easily to him as it did the guardsman. He spent a few minutes tossing and turning restlessly, fragments of the dream lurking in the peripherals of his mind, taunting him and refusing to make themselves known. He wouldn't be getting to sleep anytime soon. Not like this.

He slid out of the bed as gingerly as he could manage, pausing to ensure he hadn't disturbed Braig again. Once he was satisfied that the guard was still sleeping, he pulled on his shoes and slid out of the room.

Xehanort shut the door behind him, doing his best to minimize the squeak of the hinges. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel like a naughty child sneaking out after bedtime. But despite his childlike helplessness when they first found him, he was an adult - a newly appointed Apprentice of Ansem the Wise, no less - and he was perfectly within his rights to walk the castle grounds unsupervised. His body moved as if on autopilot, feet guiding him through the winding halls of the castle as he slipped deep into thought.

The dreams began about a month after his arrival. Or rather, it was the same dream night after night. Though he couldn't clearly recall its contents upon awakening he knew it to be true. Could it be a repressed memory, locked deep in his unconscious mind? The thought had occurred to him before. But if that was the case, why that one specific event over and over again? Shouldn’t he have a lifetime of memories to draw from? If it was indeed a memory, it must be an important one.

A blast of chilled air hit Xehanort as he stepped outside and into the castle's gardens. Even under the pale moonlight they were a sight to behold. He didn't know much about flowers, but he couldn't imagine a more beautiful assortment in all the worlds... But there was only one world, wasn't there? He pinched the bridge of his nose as the all too familiar throb of a headache made its presence known. He sat on a nearby bench, shivering against the cool stone. Perhaps he should've put something warmer on than his thin pajamas to admire the gardens in.

His worries were momentarily forgotten as he studied the flowers. Yes, they really were quite beautiful. Xehanort didn't know any of their names, but his eyes were drawn to a full and colorful bloom at his feet. He stroked the cool, velvety petals and traced the veins in the leaves. It stood tall and proud among its many peers, clearly thriving despite the chilly night air. With a quiet snap, he plucked it out of the ground and brought it closer to study.

To be so suddenly removed from one's environment must be quite a shock, he thought. Of course, that's assuming the flower had sentience enough to remember being in the garden in the first place. Perhaps he wasn't so different in that respect. But wasn't an uprooted flower doomed to wilt eventually? Could life be sustained without roots? He rubbed another petal between his thumb and forefinger, considering. And then he began to pluck them off one by one and cast them aside.

"Woah, kinda ruining my hard work there. What'd that flower ever do to you?"

Startled by Braig's soft scolding behind him, he nearly dropped the flower. He cleared his throat in an attempt to recover and laid the bloom at his feet. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

"Shall I tell Dilan you're taking credit for his toil in the gardens then?"

"As if! You're suggesting I do what... Stand around all day and look pretty?"

Xehanort rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I’m not sure 'pretty' would be my word of choice, but would it be a false accusation?"

A heavy jacket was draped over his shoulders as he received a gentle kiss to the temple. Muttering a thank you, he pulled his new shawl further over his arms. It was Braig's uniform coat, still warm from the inside.

"Cut me some slack here!" The guard sat down and bumped their knees together. "But I'll take the bait. If I'm not 'pretty', what am I then?"

Xehanort averted his eyes, suddenly finding great interest in the flowers as a smile threatened to break out once more. If not pretty... Rogueishly handsome. Charming. Surprisingly enigmatic considering his extraverted front. He could be an overbearing pest at his worst but his affection was earnest enough that he was easily forgiven. One word couldn't possibly suffice, so he said nothing. The silence stretched on for a few minutes. Braig laced their fingers together and gently squeezed.

"So," he started softly, "anything you feel like talking about?"

He hadn't told anyone about the dreams yet. Some mixture of paranoia and irrational fear kept him from doing so. If it was a memory as he suspected, Ansem would do anything he could to access it. Though the man had shown him infinite kindness since taking him in, he was a scientist through and through. Xehanort much preferred being an Apprentice and not a specimen.

Of course, he wanted to reclaim his memories, but not at the expense of his new life. What if they were successful in accessing his past self, but they didn't like what they found? He could be an entirely different person. And if hazy dreams of war were all he had to go on, he could be a dangerous one at that.

But on the other hand, what if they were never successful? If recovering his memory was impossible, would they grow tired of him and cast him out? Alone and helpless again for someone else to try and fix? Xehanort knew he was being irrational. Braig would never be so cruel, and though he wasn't as close with the others, he knew that they wouldn't either. So why did the words die on his lips?

"Hey, it’s fine if you don’t want to," Braig whispered, thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand. "If all you want is some good ol' fashioned comfort, I'm here for that too."

"No, it's not that, it's just... Well, there's not much to tell. It was just a dream, and I couldn't sleep once I was up."

"Huh, you've never mentioned having dreams before now, but I suppose it'd be weird if you didn't have 'em." Braig gave a considerate hum. "Must've been one hell of a dream to get you this far out of bed."

"I suppose it was." Xehanort shrugged. "But I'm afraid I can't remember it now."

"Yeah that does seem to be a problem of yours," Braig said with a cheeky grin. Xehanort couldn't help mirroring it, even as he elbowed the guard in the side.

"Yowch, what was that for?"

"You know exactly what it was for."

Xehanort squeezed Braig's hand, noting that it was chilled after all the time they'd been outside. His companion was just as underdressed as he was, even foregoing his signature eyepatch. Well, he'd have to fix that, wouldn't he?

Scooting closer to Braig, Xehanort wrapped the coat around both of them and melted into his side with a contented sigh. Much better. He laid his head on the man’s shoulder, their closeness and shared body heat warming him from the inside out.

"Y'know if you wanted to cuddle we could've just gone back to bed," Braig half-joked, even as he shifted to put an arm around his waist.

"No," Xehanort hummed. "I think I quite like it right here."

He closed his eyes. There was something about being with Braig that was comfortable; familiar, even. It just felt _right_. Apparently the feeling was mutual since the guard had stuck close by his side from the moment he woke up. It wasn't the ideal meet cute, but somehow it suited their dynamic perfectly.

He snuck a glance up at the guard, who had closed his own eyes with a small smile. Even with the dark, jagged scar tissue that made up his right eye and split his cheek, Braig looked peaceful. That warmth in his chest was back, and he felt like he could trust the man with anything in the world. Maybe he should.

"Braig," he started tentatively, "have you ever wondered why it is that I ended up here? Not somewhere else in the world?"

There was a thoughtful pause before the guard looked at him. "Nah, not really. It's no use thinking about that when you’re here now, right?"

"I suppose not," he admitted, sitting up straight. "But I just wonder… if I had woken up in a different town, would I have been so lucky? To be offered a home and a fresh start? A chance to recover what I’ve lost?"

_To find you?_

"Y'know," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, "I met this old coot once that gave me a nice little tidbit. Said _'destiny is never left to chance_.'" Braig gave him a subtle but soft glance. "Can't say I believed him at first, but I think he may have been right."

 _Destiny is never left to chance._ Had someone said that to him once before?

"Anyway, enough of that sap," Braig continued. "What's brought on the sudden existential crisis anyway?"

"Like I said earlier, it was a dream that woke me. I can remember very little of it, but I know I've been having the same one for a while now. I suspect… it may be a memory."

"Oh?" Braig raised an eyebrow, suddenly looking very curious. "Can you recall anything in particular?

Xehanort shook his head. "The only thing I can remember is a battle of some sort. Some place that I don't recognize. Certainly not anywhere here in Radiant Garden."

"Huh. Hard to say." Braig ran his fingers through his hair. "There was some legendary battle a long time ago. I mean, a _really_ long time ago. But you don't strike me as a guy that's thousands of years old."

"That's encouraging," he deadpanned.

Braig winked. "That's what I'm here for. But uh, to be serious for a second, I've had some pretty wild dreams myself, and none of them ever amounted to anything. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"Perhaps," Xehanort pondered. "It's just… The closest I've felt to remembering. If it’s real, I don’t want it to change things. But I also don't want to ignore it, only for it to slip away entirely. All of yours and Master Ansem's generosity would be for nothing if I never-"

Braig shushed him with a kiss to his temple and, when Xehanort turned to face him, he planted a tender kiss against his lips for good measure.

"You don't owe Ansem or us anything," the guard reassured him, soft but firm. "If you remember, that's all the better. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But if not? You're here, and that's good enough for me."

Xehanort's chest felt fit to burst again, only not from a nightmare this time. He closed the distance between them for another gentle kiss that turned into two or three as fingers threaded through his silver hair. He pulled back with a smile, feeling lighter than before.

"What was that saying again? Destiny is never left to chance?"

Braig grinned. "Yeah that's the one. Think on it. Might help you sleep easier." He stood up with a sleepy stretch before wrapping the jacket around Xehanort's shoulders again. "And speaking of sleep… You ready to head back to bed where we _won’t_ be freezing our asses off?"

Xehanort nodded and accepted Braig's outstretched hand. He let the guard lead him through the gardens and finally back into the castle. And as soon as his head hit the pillow, Braig's arms around him and solid warmth at his back, he fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep at last.

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine that early on Apprentice Nort struggled quite a bit with his identity, being torn between wanting to recover what was lost while also enjoying the new life he'd found there in RG. He probably thought their interest in him was conditional, dependent upon whether or not his memories could be recovered. That couldn't be further from the truth, but a situation like his is bound to cause some serious self-worth issues. Anyway that's my take on Apprentice Nort, I hope I did him justice ^^  
> (Also, the title is roughly latin for "dreams & memories")


End file.
